


(Try Our Very Best To) Fake It

by jessethejoyful



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Slow Burn, after watching to all the boys i've loved before lmao, i've been working on it for a Bit, so just be Aware i guess, some of this references that movie, this has been a long time coming tbh, this is pretty slow burn honestly, welcome to hell aka my fake dating au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-08 10:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15928454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessethejoyful/pseuds/jessethejoyful
Summary: Simon returns to Watford from the Christmas holiday of their sixth year suddenly without a girlfriend and with a lot of pent-up frustration, and things take a turn for the downright strange. Baz doesn't know what to do with this newly-single Simon - except befriend him, and then pretend to date him, apparently.





	1. you wear me out

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to my homie ani for betaing this with the utmost patience and attention to my shitty details  
> this fic is my child and is also mostly done, so I may have a fairly regular update schedule? but it'll only be about three or four parts  
> hope you guys enjoy!!!  
> (the work title is from bastille's song fake it!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is referencing my chemical romance's song 'i'm not okay'

**SIMON**

For the first time, I’m not happy about coming back to Watford after the Christmas holiday.

Don’t get me wrong - I still love Watford, it’s absolutely my favorite place in the entire world. I love the rolling hills, Ebb and the goats, tea time. But I don’t love this isolated feeling that sweeps over me as I step into the dining hall early the first day back.

Christmas is usually excellent. I spend every year at Agatha’s parent’s, and their house is so fancy and cool, and her parents are always so nice to me - but we got into the dumbest fight, and she told me she ‘just couldn’t do this anymore.’ What the fuck am I supposed to do with that, Agatha?

It had started with a text from Penny on Christmas Eve. She sent it to Agatha, because I don’t have a mobile.

 _Got some thoughts about the Humdrum_ , she typed, _How about we meet up on Boxing Day for gifts and planning?_

We were stretched out on the massive couch in the TV room watching Doctor Who reruns, and I was eating another Mint Aero that Agatha’s mum always kept around for me, when Agatha shoved her phone under my nose. I startled and sat up, taking the phone and reading the text.

“Oh,” I said, looking up at Agatha, unsure of what to say. Her reaction wasn’t registering as overly pleased. “Well, that’s good then, right?”

Her eyebrows were furrowed, arms and legs crossed tight in her spot beside me. “Yeah, _good_. Just the way I want to spend my holiday, gearing up for another stupidly dangerous plot to surely get us all killed.”

I was surprised by the outburst, mostly because Agatha wasn’t really one for outbursts. I moved to the edge of the couch and turned to look at her. “What do you mean?”

She scoffed, unfolding her arms and throwing her hands in the air. “I’m tired of all this, Simon. I’m tired of the _adventures_ and the _danger_ and the _Humdrum_.”

“You think I’m not tired of the Humdrum?”

“I know you are, Simon, but it’s all you and Penelope ever talk about!”

“Well, yeah! Because he keeps attacking me! I can’t really help but talk about this constant murdering force, can I?”

Agatha threw herself back into the cushions, and even her pouting was lovely. Just looking at her made me feel bad, though I didn’t actually have any reason to.

“Well, he’s not _my_ problem,” she said, so quietly I almost didn’t hear her.

But I did, and I immediately froze. “So it’s not your problem that the world of Mages is constantly under attack? You’re a mage, aren’t you? How is it _not your problem?_ ”

“I didn’t _ask_ to be a mage!” she practically screamed, launching up from the couch and striding back and forth a few times across the room. Agatha doesn’t pace, so this seemed beyond me. I just watched her from the couch, completely in awe, and let her go off for once. “I don’t _want_ any of this bullshit! Not the bloody Humdrum, not the Mage, not any of it! I don’t want to be in danger, running from werewolves or dragons or whatever else the Humdrum sends after us, setting me up to be future collateral damage in the _drama_ that is the life of Simon Snow, hero of Mages!”

She was breathing heavily by the end, and I think it took a minute for her to realize what she’d just said, and her expression shifted from enraged to sheepish. She dropped slowly onto the couch, and I didn’t move toward her. I didn’t do anything but say in a voice that didn’t sound like mine, “But I love you, Agatha.”

Her voice was a whisper. “I can’t _do_ this anymore, Simon. I just can’t.” She got up again and actually left the room, and I could hear her race up the stairs and slam the door to her bedroom. I stayed on the couch for a while after that, not sure of what to do. I finally got up and went to call Penny with the Wellbelove’s landline, and she and Premal came to get me.

Penny and I spent the rest of break not talking much, because I was pretty distraught and she didn’t know what to do with me. And her mum was flitting around us after the first couple of days, convinced I was going to blow something up.

Not that I can put her at fault for worrying - I was pretty on edge the whole time.

So when we get back to school, I still feel like I’m on the brink of an explosion. It was the first thing Baz said last night when he came into our room at the top of Mummer’s House, his nose wrinkling.

“Crowley, Snow,” he snarled, closing the door behind him and glaring at me. “You reek like a forest fire.”

“Piss off,” I hissed, rolling over to face the wall and ignoring him for the rest of the night, only getting up to shower and slam things around a bit. I knew he was watching me, but I was too sad to care.

In the dining hall, I can see Agatha already, very pointedly, sitting at a table by herself on the other side of the massive room from where we usually sit. I feel a scowl crawl up on my face, and I know everyone else in the hall has noticed it too. We were fixed, we were sorted, everyone knew it - but then she got _tired_ of me (or being a mage, or whatever), so that’s just another thing in my life, ruined.

Penny isn’t here yet, I always get here early, so I get a pot of tea and a plate of scones and probably more butter than I need and try not to throw it down on the table as I sit. I’m trying not to pout, because I don’t want to give Baz the satisfaction of seeing me so upset and working out the reason - but there’s no way he won’t; I can hear people whispering and see them pointing at me and Agatha.

When the chair beside me moves out, I open my mouth, ready to start complaining to Penny. Except it’s not Penny who drops into the seat; it’s Baz.

“So,” he says gleefully, and I’m alarmed because glee is not an emotion associated with Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, in any universe, “I see now why you’ve been glowering since yesterday evening. I must admit, I’m surprised you two lasted as long as you did. She’s far too good for you.”

I can tell he’s trying to bait me. And I don’t know if I’m just too tired and sad to fight, but I don’t take the fight he dangles in front of me. Instead, I just slump back in my seat and fold my arms. “I know.”

He’s surprised, I can tell by the way his mouth opens and then clicks shut, his stupid eyebrows shooting up to his stupid hairline. I think I’ve shocked him into silence, because he just crosses his leg and leans forward to look at me, and I actually meet his eyes. It’s not something I do often, and I’m always surprised by the colors in them because his skin is so lacking in any. Are pretty eyes part of being a vampire? Must be.

“What do you want from me, Baz?” I say dejectedly, slumping lower in my seat and closing my eyes. “Can’t you see I’m miserable enough already? I don’t need you helping.”

“I was hoping to ruin your pity party and make it a little worse, but I’m honestly not certain you can get more pitiful.”

“Thank you,” I grumble, cracking open one eye. “Now go away.”

Surprisingly, he does, and without another word. I watch him walk away, suspicious now, but even Baz and his dire plots can’t take me out of whatever this mood I’m in is. Maybe I have depression.

I say as much to Penny when she gets here, but she just rolls her eyes.

“You don’t have depression, Simon,” she sighs, pouring her tea. “You can be _depressed_ , but you don’t have depression. It’s not like you and Agatha were all that well-suited for one another anyways.”

“We were!” I whine, leaning over the armrest of my seat. Baz left a few minutes ago, and Agatha not long after, so I don’t feel bad being so obvious. “We were together for two years. Two years, Penny! That’s nothing to sneeze at!”

“You were both miserable half the time,” she says, peering at me over the top of her glasses that are constantly sliding down her nose. “I’d sneeze at that.” I groan and cover my face with my hands. Penny rolls her eyes as she continues. “Stop being so dramatic, Simon, please. If you keep yourself so worked up, you’re going to set your desk on fire during lessons. Or mine.”

I try to do as she says. If there’s anything I’m sure of, it’s that Penny is usually right, and I keep trying to remind myself of that as we go through the day. But it’s not easy, with Agatha in half of my classes. She sits as far away from me as possible, and I have to deal with Baz looking far too happy and Penny looking vaguely annoyed.

By the end of lessons for the day, I’m seriously stewing, and I know my magic is rolling off me in waves but nothing I do makes it stop. So when I’m crossing the courtyard and I hear my name, it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to scream in response.

And then I realize it’s the Mage, and I slump. I don’t know what he’d do if I yelled at him.

“Simon,” he says, striding up to me with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He’s always armed, always in what Baz likes to call his Robin Hood cosplay, and today is no different. He looks like he might have just returned from one of his trips to Merlin-knows-where. It’s not like he ever tells me anything. “Come with me. I wanted to talk to you.”

I gulp. I don’t know what I’ve done to get in trouble, but it’s not helping my mood. I try to tamp down on my magic but that seems to almost make it worse.

Following the Mage up to the tower where his office is, I’m quiet, and so is he, but he seems far more comfortable with the silence than I am. And I don’t even know for sure that I’m in trouble, because he glances at me once and meets my eyes, then gives me a small smile. I try to return it, but it feels like more of a grimace.

He spells his office open and steps inside. “Close the door after you, Simon.” I do as he says, then sit down in the plush chair across the desk from his. The Mage’s office is always a bit of a mess, like he has no time to organize anything. I can’t really blame him - he’s the headmaster of Watford, and the head of the Coven. He has a lot of different duties outside of this little room. “How are you doing? Did you have a good Christmas?”

I stare at him. Is he just checking on me? “Uh - it was alright, sir. How was yours?”

He lifts one of his dark eyebrows at me, but doesn’t answer my question, instead just pushing his hand through his beard. “Some of your teachers came to me this afternoon with concerns. They said your magic has been leaking all day, and wanted to make sure you alright. Has something happened with the Humdrum?”

My face and ears feel hot. It’s embarrassing to have your teachers call you out on your lack of control. “Ah - no, sir, nothing with the Humdrum. I guess I’m - just upset.”

He’s still not sitting in his chair, instead leaning against the wall behind it. I’m not even sure I’ve ever seen him sit. “What about?”

I stare at the floor. “It’s nothing important, sir,” I grumble, twiddling my thumbs.

“If there’s something upsetting you, Simon, it’s important to me,” he says gently.

I look up at him, frowning at the gentle nature of this interrogation, and try not to look any more pitiful than I already do. “Well - it’s just -” I force myself to take a deep breath and slow down. “Agatha broke up with me. Sir.”

He schools his expression, but I can tell he’s surprised. “Oh. Is that all?” I nod. “Well. I’m sorry, Simon, but it’s probably for the best. The less there is to distract you from the mission, the less harm there is to be caused.” I stare at him, trying not to be hurt by this flippant dismissal.

“Right,” I say tightly, clenching my fists on my knees and focusing on keeping myself in check. “Yes, sir.”

“Attachments like love and dating only muddle things,” he continues, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he sounds bitter. “It’s hard. But the path you walk is a righteous and glorious one, and not one that anyone else can take with you.” The more he says, the more angry I feel. It’s like he’s telling me to cut myself off from the people I love - which is not something I’m willing to do. Would he do that so easily to me, for his _righteous_ path?

“Yes, sir,” I grind out, my voice coming out closed off. “May I go, sir?”

The Mage stares hard at me, his brows furrowed like he’s trying to figure me out. “Hm. Yes, Simon, you may go. Keep working hard.”

I push up and try not to stomp out of the room, but I run once I’m out of the building.

 

**BAZ**

I feel Snow coming before he actually enters the room. His magic has been spilling out all day, making everyone ill and punch-drunk, and reeking of smoke and ash. But it’s worse when he steps into our room, like one wrong word to him and he’ll just combust.

He stares at me like I’m an alien. “I didn’t think you’d be here. Thought you had football.”

I stare back at him. “It’s the middle of winter.”

Snow shrugs, one of his obnoxious full-body shrugs that always make me want to punch him. “Whatever.” He drops onto his bed and violently kicks off his shoes, and the closer he gets, the more I feel like he might set me on fire.

I lean away from him. “Much more of this, and you’re going to just turn to ash, Snow. I don’t really fancy cleaning you out of the cracks in the floor.”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t be glad to be shot of me,” he growls, throwing himself back against his pillows and squeezing his eyes shut. “You’ve been trying to off me for years.”

He looks so dejected, and his mood only seems to be getting worse - I’m not sure what to do with him like this. Normally it’s me who gets him this way, but it’s not as fun to watch when I’m not the cause. But I don’t know what possesses me to say, “My family would be thrilled, it’s true, but I’m not sure that I would be.”

His head whips to face me so fast it blurs, and I try not to jump. “You what?”

I make a sound in the back of my throat like disgust. “Don’t get so excited. I just know things would be a lot more bleak if you weren’t around to keep mucking them up.”

He scoffs, back to being annoyed, and I know I saved myself. “Fuck off, Baz. Seriously.”

I’m still not really sure what to do. We never spend time in the room together if we can help it, but he doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, and neither am I. He just rolls over to the face the wall. I try to put my nose back in the book I was reading, but I can’t focus with the magic filling the air between us.

Even in the dim light of our room his hair glows, golden and soft against his pillow. I glare over at him, hating everything about what his presence does to me, ever since I figured it out last year. That I’m desperately in love with him, idiot that he is.

After five years of blatant animosity, that realization was thoroughly unwelcome. I ran over it in my head again and again, trying to convince myself that I was mistaken, but every time he looked at me my breath stopped and every time he spoke to me, even to yell at me for being a git, my heart would pound nearly out of my chest.

I’m not completely disillusioned, though. I know there’s no way this will end well. We’ll fight like we’re expected, one of us will die (it will almost certainly be me) and that’ll be it. He’ll never know that I’m in love with him, and that’s for the best. I’m almost thankful for the hatred between us, because I don’t think I could stand to be around him otherwise. In love with him, but he’s forever out of my reach.

Finding out he and Agatha broke up had been like getting an electric shock from an open wire. Some tiny part of me had thought maybe, _maybe_ now I could - I don’t know, profess my love to him and we’d ride off into the sunset together. I shut that part down very quickly.

He’s not even gay.

But I still hate it when he’s like this. I hate it for him. Sometimes I want to talk him down, try to soothe him, but I feel like it would have the opposite effect.

It’s the dumb little part of me that drives me to say next, “You can talk to me about it. If you like.” My voice is small and timid, and I’m cursing myself for ever letting Simon Snow make me speak that way, but it definitely gets his attention. He rolls over to face me, his expression suspicious and bordering on downright perturbed.

“Why? So you can make fun of me?” While he’d usually be right, this still hurts for some reason, the blatant mistrust and disgust at the idea of opening up to me.  
I try not to huff as I say, “I just thought I’d offer. You don’t have to do anything,” and look back down at my book, though I can’t actually read the words anymore. I stare at the same line, stare through it, and I’m floored when Simon speaks.

“She just…” I close my book and put it down, for once giving him my full attention. He’s not even looking at me, just staring at the end of my bed. “It just seemed really unfair. She told me it wasn’t _her_ problem, that she couldn’t do _this_ anymore,” he says, gesturing at himself. “I always knew she didn’t like the danger and all of it, but…” His voice wavers, and I’m actually worried he’s going to start crying. “She said she didn’t want to be... future collateral damage in the drama that is my life.” He spits that last, looking properly angry for a moment.

It sounds like he’s speaking verbatim, and I have to agree, that is incredibly unfair. I open my mouth to comment, but he keeps going. “And that’s just bullshit, innit? Like she gets to _decide_ she doesn’t want any part in this, when it’s all I know anymore. The fighting. Being hunted. She doesn’t give a shit about it, while _I’m_ forced to. Saying she doesn’t care about it is basically saying she doesn’t -” His voice cracks. “She doesn’t care about _me_.”

It’s awful watching him like this. He looks so distraught as he comes to that realization that it’s painful to watch, sending a pang through my chest, and I have to stop myself from reaching for him. “It sounds like she really got to you.”

Simon sniffles, and I can see that he actually is crying now, almost completely silent. “I love her. And she threw me away. So yeah, you could say she got to me.” He doesn’t sound aggressive. Just broken. “And then the _Mage_ -”

He cuts off and looks at me, like he remembered who he’s talking to. He knows how much my family and I despise the Mage. I speak softly. “What did he do now?”

And maybe he doesn’t care that it’s his worst enemy he’s venting to, because he keeps going. “He called me into his office today, because some of the professors were worried about my magic pouring out all over the place. And I told him about Agatha, and you know what he told me? He told me it was for the _best_ . That in my righteous path, or whatever the fuck - it’s better to have less people to _distract_ me. That love _muddles_ things.”

That sounds like the kind of shit the Mage is always spewing. I’m impressed with Simon, mostly because he never speaks ill of the Mage, but this seems to have really gotten to him.

“That’s pretty fucked up,” I say, and I mean it. Maybe he can tell that I _do_ mean it, because the look he gives me isn’t as suspicious. “Now we know why the Mage doesn’t seem to have any kind of family. He’s too _righteous_.” Simon snorts, and the feeling of making him laugh when he’s so upset guts me clean through.

“I’d pity any child of his,” Simon says, sitting up more in his bed and looking across at me. “That’d be one fucked up kid.”

“It would,” I agree, meeting his gaze. Our eyes don’t often meet. I don’t know what to do now that they are. His are damp, a thin tear tracing down his right cheek. Through the wetness, his normally average blue eyes are like ice, shifting and sparkling. Our beds are close enough together that if I wanted to, I could reach out and wipe the tear away. Something moves my arm for me and I lean forward to let my hand cup his face, my thumb brushing the tear from his jaw. And he doesn’t move away for a long moment.

Then he seems to startle, letting out a breathy laugh and breaking our gaze, leaning back so my hand falls. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just rattle on -”

I pull my hand back, thankful in that moment that I can’t blush. “It’s alright. I told you to, did I not?”

Simon smiles at me then, small and unexpectedly shy, and I think I might die for a second time, right there on my bed. “Yeah, I guess you did. Thanks, Basil.” His use of my other nickname surprises me, and pleases me a little, but I’d never admit that.

This quiet, borderline sweet conversation is starting to get to me. “Don’t expect it too often. I just hate seeing you so full of self-pity. It’s embarrassing, for you.” I pick up my book again as he groans.

“For Crowley’s sake, Baz,” he mumbles, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Fuck having a moment.”

“We wouldn’t want you getting complacent, Snow.”

I don’t point out that the feeling of his magic leaking out died almost completely after our conversation.

 

 

**SIMON**

A few weeks into term, and it feels like I’m avoiding everyone in my life. Agatha is still avoiding both me and Penny, not speaking to us or even looking at us any time we’re in the same space. The whole thing with her makes me both sad and angry, but I’m not sure what to do about it. She’s been staring at Baz, and I don’t care for that shit at all.

I’ve been skirting the Mage as well because I don’t want to have another conversation with him about how pointless love is. I don’t want his pity or his advice. I heard him call out to me last week when I was walking back to Mummer’s House, but I pretended not to hear him. He didn’t follow me, so it must not have been too important.

Even being with Penny has gotten difficult. She doesn’t want to hear about Agatha (I think she’s kind of pissed that Agatha completely ditched both of us) and she’s so focused on her studies that she snaps at me most of the time. I know she doesn’t mean anything by it, but it still hurts.

So I start spending more time in my room. With _Baz_.

There’s something different about him lately. Something in our feud has shifted since the night I vented to him, and he’d held my face in his hand. I’d gone completely still, maybe because my brain didn’t know how to process such a gentle touch from my sworn enemy. And he’d gotten snippy again almost immediately, so it was likely just a weird fluke. Doesn’t mean we’re suddenly friends.

But he’s been acting almost nice, not as aggressive as he normally is. I’ve been less aggressive in response, and we haven’t screamed at each other or tried to punch the other all term.

It’s downright odd.

Without the antagonism, it’s become bearable to the point of almost pleasant to hang out in our room. Baz will sit on his bed, reading or writing, and I’ll stretch on my stomach on mine, trying to work on my homework but often finding myself too distracted to. So I’ll talk, and Baz will grunt noncommittally now and then, or make a small comment, and it’s all strangely companionable. I still don’t know if I’d call it nice - he’ll call me an idiot if he feels like it, or insult my magic - but it’s a lot less violent than ever before.

“What the fuck are you doing, Simon?” Baz snaps one afternoon as he comes in the room. I’m leaning over the side of my bed upside down, my legs keeping me on the bed and my head resting on the floor. I tilt upward to look at him and the blood moving in my head makes me kinda dizzy. I grin.

“Just hanging out,” I say slyly, and he groans.

“I’m calling an end to this truce if you keep subjecting me to your shitty puns,” he says, putting his bag in a corner and taking off his tie and his blazer.

I sit up all the way, trying to shake away the stars in front of my eyes. “Is that what this is?” I ask, tilting my head at him. “A truce?”

Baz sits down on his bed, peering at me through narrowed eyes, like he’s not sure how to answer. “What would you call it? A cease-fire? Are we _friends_ now?”

“Friends? Because you’ve stopped trying to curse me every time I come into the room?”

“Isn’t that what friends do?” he says scornfully, and I fight not to roll my eyes.

“It’d be easier. Being friends. Don’t you think?”

He leans over to untie his shoes, and I feel like he’s purposefully not looking at me. “What would?”

“I dunno, _life_? Everything? Constantly fighting with the person you live with is exhausting, don’t you think? If we were friends, maybe we could actually get some work done.”

“I always get my work done.”

I heave out a sigh and stretch out on my stomach, leaning over the side of my bed to pull out one of my textbooks. “Fine, then. Have it your way.” I crack the book open and try to read, but I’m a little… disappointed? Penny always says I can make friends with anyone, but Baz is so consistently antagonistic I don’t think even I’m capable.

But then he speaks. “I admit it might be... nice. I’m not sure I can manage it, though. You’re so thick, I’m not just going to let you get away with being a dunce.”

I sit up and stare at him. Baz never relents, but here he is, leaving the door cracked instead of just slamming it in my face. “I mean, Penny tells me I'm an idiot all the time. It's not like I'm not used to it.”

Baz snickers. “Bunce is too sharp for her own good, I've always thought so.” Has he? That'll kill Penny, when I tell her. He sighs heavily, like he's too tired to breathe any other way. “My family will likely have me disinherited for befriending you. Fiona will try to have me exorcised.”

I ruffle my hair. “If we're going to be friends,” I say slowly, looking at him with my eyebrows raised, “you should really admit to being a vampire. Since I've known it all along anyways.”

This is the absolute wrong thing to say. His entire body goes stiff, his fists clenching and his jaw working. “Like it's just that easy,” he hisses through his teeth, which I'm pretty sure is him basically admitting it. He shoves off his bed and I think he's coming to attack me, but instead he yanks on his shoes and steps out the door without another word.

I throw myself back against my pillows, pouting. I wasn't trying to upset him for once, not really. I've known about him being a vampire for years - he _knows_ I know, and he likes to taunt me with it. But he hasn't killed anyone yet (that I know of), and it's not his fault he's a vampire. I'm not going to kill him or get him killed for something he can't help. Maybe he's just embarrassed? He's so hard to read, always keeping his expressions down to obvious disgust or cruel joy. The only time I'd seen him looking thoughtful or apologetic was the other night. When everything shifted.

Baz doesn't come back for a couple hours. By the time he does come back, I've already showered and gotten in bed. He comes in quietly, like he's trying not to wake me, but I sit up and look at him in the half-light, and he startles.

“Look,” I say gruffly, because friendship is about give and take, “I'm sorry, alright? You don't have to admit to anything. It's not even any of my business.”

He gives me a withering look, grabbing his bedclothes and disappearing into the bathroom. I lay back in my bed and stare at the ceiling, wondering what he's thinking and whether or not he's going to try and kill me while I’m asleep tonight. But then he's leaning in the doorway of the bathroom, holding his shirt and staring at it in his hands. I don't think I've ever seen him without a shirt before. He's shyer than I'd expect, considering his - everything, maybe because he's so skinny and pale. But he's also lithe and filled out from football, because Coach Mac works them hard on drills.

And he looks soft as he says, “It’s not easy to admit to being something that any Mage would gladly kill. And to you, who's been trying to out me for years.”

I feel so bad I can't say anything for a moment. “I mean, in my defense, you've _also_ been trying to kill me for years?”

“I have _not._ I just tend to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

I'm floored. This conversation is going all over the place. “Well… I'm sorry. I'm not going to try to kill you. I'm not going to fight you at all, am I? If we're friends, now.” Baz looks at me, long and pained, and I try not to shift under the seriousness of his gaze.

“Alright, Snow. Friends.”


	2. waiting for love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Carry On, it states that the Mage disregarded Simon during their 6th year at Watford - for my purposes, I've changed it to their 5th year.  
> thanks for keeping up with me y'all, hope you enjoy! leave a comment or drop me a line on my tumblr, which is jessethejoyful.tumblr.com c:  
> chapter title is referencing avicii's song 'waiting for love'

**BAZ**

I really don't know what I was thinking. I suppose I wasn't. But living for five years in the same room as the person you love most in the world, and knowing they despise you - it can make you desperate and stupid. Which is all I ever am, when Snow is involved. 

And he's right. Being friends is much easier than what we've been doing. But what he doesn't understand is that we have to have ground rules.

“I can't talk to you outside of the room?” Snow gapes at me the next morning while he’s buttoning his shirt. I think my brain turned off last night; I don't normally dress in front of him, but now that I have, he seems to think it's our norm. Seeing his bare chest was almost too much for me to handle, golden and broad and riddled with scars. 

“My minions won't understand,” I say, and he furrows his brow at me, like he's trying to figure out whether or not I'm taking the piss. And I am, but he doesn't need to know that. “We've spent years hating you and plotting your ultimate demise. They won't understand if we suddenly throw that all away.”

“I wonder how Dev and Niall would feel to be so called,” Snow grumbles. 

I snort at this. “On the contrary. They've known our arrangement since the beginning.” Which is true. They both stuck to me like glue for my name, and our friendship came after. 

It's different with Snow. Snow doesn't care about my name. He doesn't care about our politics or our history or the corruption rampant in the system - all he cares about is eating and fighting the Humdrum and the Mage, who is back to being off-limits in our conversation. 

“I just don't like bad talking him,” Simon told me sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “He can be kind of a pain in the arse, but he's done good by me.”

“Oh yes,” I said sarcastically, tossing my head to the side. “Subjecting you to stupid trials as tests, constantly putting you in danger,  _ completely disregarding you _ for a whole year - ” (I watched Snow trailing after him all during our fifth year, pleading for his attention. It was depressing.) “ - what a man.” 

Simon shifted uncomfortably, and I dropped it, but I was still annoyed.

I can tell it weirds him out now not to talk to me outside of the room. I catch him glancing at me, during classes and at meal times, furtive looks like he wants to tell me something, or bring me into his and Bunce’s conversations, but he doesn't. I don't want to admit how pleased I am to have so much of his attention, even if it's driving me to distraction.

Agatha is suspicious of us. She watches both of us constantly, and it's almost unnerving. I'll catch her eye now and then - cant my head at her and lift a brow. She immediately turns bright red and looks away. Interesting.

It's not interesting enough for me to care, until Agatha actually approaches me one afternoon. I'm leaving the dining hall after lunch, by myself for once (Niall had study hall and Dev hadn't shown up at all - I figured he was napping) when she calls out to me, catches up to me. 

“Basil,” she says prettily, and I keep myself from curling my lip.

“Wellbelove.”

“Heading to class? Mind if I join you?” We have World History together next period, the only class we don't share with Simon. 

“Alright,” I say slowly, holding the door of the dining hall open for her. I glance over my shoulder and spot Snow, still at his and Bunce’s table, staring murder in our direction. I give him a quick grimace before I follow Agatha out.

We walk in silence for a few moments, and I'm not willing to fill it. She finally says, “You know, I don't think you and I have talked enough, Basil. I think we would be good  _ friends _ .” 

I don't like the emphasis she puts on friends. Like she means something more. “Do you now? And why is that?” 

She looks surprised, but answers me. “We come from similar upbringings,” she says, and I have to hold in a snicker, “and we’re constantly on the fringes of Simon’s disasters.” 

“Future collateral damage in the drama that is the life of Simon Snow,” I drawl, watching Agatha from the corner of my eye for her reaction. I probably shouldn't have let slip that Simon told me about their argument, but I can't help it. I'm bristling on his behalf. 

Her reaction is instant, and bloody brilliant. Her face turns three shades of red, her eyes going wide and her jaw pushing forward. Without another word, she storms off, putting as much distance between she and I as possible. And I don't want to walk with her, so I slow up to let her reach the classroom first. She sits clear across the room and doesn't look my way once, which is just how I like it.

When I return to our room that evening, after draining a few rats in the Catacombs, Simon is already there, leaking magic again. I feel it all the way outside Mummer’s House, and I steel myself before entering the room. He's sitting on his bed, folded like origami, and glaring at me. 

“What?” I snap, not in the mood for the head rush feeling I always get from Snow’s magic. 

“What was that with Agatha today?” he says, for once getting right to the point. Is that all this is about? 

I sit down across from him, lifting an eyebrow. “She wanted to talk to me - said she wanted to be friends. I couldn't just tell her to fuck off, could I?” I don't know why, but I'm hesitating to tell Snow that she was flirting with me. It would only upset him more. 

He kicks at his sheets, growling. “Don’t act like I haven't seen you two looking at each other. You like her, don’t you?” 

I stare at him. “No, I don't  _ like _ her.” Snow scoffs, rolling his eyes, and I know he doesn't believe me. So I say, “Simon. I'm  _ gay _ .”

His eyes flare wide for a moment and he blinks at me. Merlin and Morgana, why can't I keep my mouth shut around him? My face is warm, and I know the blood I drank earlier is rising in my cheeks.

“Oh,” he manages, and I hate myself for being disappointed at this muted reaction. I guess it would have been worse if he made a big deal out of it, but instead he just nods and seems to relax. “Oh, okay. ...Sorry.” The feeling of his magic in the air recedes, and I want to scream.

“Whatever,” I mumble, standing again and closing myself in the bathroom. Inside, I lean against the door and slide down it, staring morosely at nothing. I'm trying not to cry, because there's really no reason to. I hear the floorboards outside the bathroom door creak and I stop breathing, listening. Snow is just outside the door, perhaps with his ear pressed to the wood. But then he moves away again, and I let out the quietest sob.

 

**SIMON**

Everything is back to normal in the morning, but I'm still tiptoeing around Baz. I know the look of someone on the verge of tears, and that was his exact expression when he disappeared into the bathroom last night. I thought I heard a sob, but I couldn't quite tell. I don't have superhuman hearing like he does. 

For years, I've thought he was trying to poach Agatha from me. He'd work his way in between us, lure her away from me, and then just leave her on her own. If he wasn't trying to  _ get  _ with her, what was he doing? Maybe he wanted to get her to like him, just so I wouldn't have her. That sounds like Baz. 

We leave for breakfast, and I don't think either of us realize that we're still talking and walking together as we head to the dining hall. He holds the door open for me - and then we both seem to wake up, and I dash through, making a mad rush for Penny and our usual table, far from his. He's still so cool, sauntering into the room with his hands in his pockets and his eyebrows raised, like he's daring anyone to question him.

And no one does, because I don't think many people saw him open the door for me. But one glance across the room at Agatha tells me she did. She's staring at me, wide-eyed, and I stare back. She holds my gaze for a long moment, then looks away, her lower lip popping out.

“Simon?” Penny says behind me, and I turn to blink at her, realizing she’s been speaking to me. She's got papers spread out across the table around a teapot, and I sit down next to her. “Spacing out before breakfast is a bad omen for the rest of the day, you know.” 

“I'm not spacing out,” I tell her, before getting up to get another pot of tea and my food. Baz is up at the same time, and I meet his eyes across the serving table. His lip curls ever so slightly, but it's more of a smile than a smirk, and he winks at me before moving away. 

Penny is bent over her books again when I return to the table, and I honestly have no idea what she's working so hard on. I let her work, absently shoving food in my mouth. And she's only there a few minutes longer, before gasping and declaring she has to get to the library before class. She runs out of the hall with a scone half in her mouth, and I'm left by myself at the table. 

A seat scrapes out, and I look up to see Agatha, sitting primly across from me. We haven't spoken since Christmas. “Agatha,” I say in surprise around my mouthful, and I cover my mouth with my hand while I finish chewing. 

“I can't believe,” she says without preamble, her voice icy, “that you told  _ Baz _ about our fight. What, are you two friends now, or something? He's a  _ villain _ , Simon!” 

I don't understand how she knows. “I - I don't know what you're talking about. We're not - friends. Just roommates. Remember?” I can't believe she's been ignoring me for weeks, and the first time she wants to talk to me it's about  _ Baz _ ? 

“How did he know, then? About - what I said to you? He quoted me almost verbatim,” she says snippily. I remember then that I did tell Baz about our fight. I'd nearly forgotten. 

“Oh, uh... “ I'm trying to think fast, but nothing comes to me. “Well, yeah. We're friends now.” Agatha looks furious, and also a little… jealous? Over me, or over him, I wonder? 

“That's ridiculous, Simon. The two of you can't be  _ friends _ , he’s been trying to kill you for years! He's a vampire! You can't be friends with a vampire!” 

I take a thoughtful bite of another scone. “You never believed me when I told you he's a vampire.” 

“I absolutely believed you!” 

“Then why are  _ you _ trying to befriend him? He told me you two talked!” 

I don't think I've ever seen Agatha this angry. Instead of answering me, she pushes up from the table and sashays out of the room. I watch her go, flabbergasted. When I look around the room to find Baz, I see him watching. Our eyes meet, and he looks a question at me. I shrug. 

 

When I see the Mage that afternoon, he doesn't let me ignore him. He stops me as I'm leaving Elocution, and I can't pretend not to see him. 

“Simon,” he says, and I think I might  _ actually _ be in trouble this time from the serious way he greets me. “Let's take a walk.”

“Er, yes, sir,” I say, hurrying to keep up as he strides down the hall and out of the building. Students and teachers alike move aside as he passes, and they all fix me with looks as I trail after him. I don't know where we're going, but we cross the drawbridge and onto the grounds. It's freezing, but the Mage seems comfortable. We're out pretty far from the school when he finally stops and turns to look at me. He looks fair miffed. 

“Simon. You know that I trust you, and support you,” he begins, and I think maybe this is starting out okay. “But I need some kind of an explanation from you. What's this about you befriending Mr. Pitch?” 

What the fuck - did Agatha  _ tell _ on me? I'm staring at the Mage, totally boggled, and it takes me a second to gather my thoughts. “I, uh - we - you see, well -" 

“Come now, Simon, use your words,” the Mage says tiredly, and I wince. 

“Well… sir, you  _ have _ always told me we're to watch out for one another. Like brothers. Doesn't that mean being friends? It's loads better than trying to kill each other.” 

He sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose. “I know what I've told you, but Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch is not to be trifled with. None of his blood are. The Old Families are growing restless, Simon; there’s a civil war brewing.” His brow lowers at me, and I try not to shrink away. “Now is not the time to be getting cozy with the enemy.”

I stare at him. “I thought the Humdrum was the enemy. Sir,” I hurry to add. 

“It  _ is _ \- but I can't properly deal with the Humdrum when Malcolm Grimm and all his relatives are testing me at every turn. And I can't deal with them, while I'm worrying about you making friends with the wrong sort. Do you understand me?” 

My jaw is hard, and I can feeling my resolve tightening as well, but I nod curtly. “Yes, sir.” 

The Mage does something then that he doesn't often do - he grabs my shoulders and pulls me to him, hugging me tightly. I wrap my arms around his torso, too startled to do anything else. But then it's over, and he's holding me at arm’s length, squeezing my arms. “You are the savior of Mages, Simon, the greatest among us. When you defeat the Humdrum and save our world, all the Old Families will be scraping at your boots. Until then, you  _ have _ to be careful. You don't have the same room for mistakes as everyone else.” 

He leaves me then, heading toward the garage where he and his Men keep their cars, and I walk back to class alone. 

I'm still raging some when I return to the room in the evening, and Baz startles as I slam the door behind me. 

“Crowley, Snow, what's the door ever done to you?” I toss my bag aside and tear off my jacket and shirt, throwing myself onto my bed in my trousers and kicking off my shoes. “Trouble in paradise?” I fix him with a glare, and he actually looks surprised. “Okay, not in the mood then - what the fuck happened?” 

I slam my pillow against my face and growl into it. “Agatha. The  _ Mage _ . They both figured out that we're friends - thanks for telling Agatha I confided in you about our breakup, by the way, that one is on you.” 

He snorts, putting aside his textbook. “This is why I set rules. It's not even  _ my _ friends who are having the problems. Shocking.” 

“I just don't know what to  _ do _ ! The Mage is lecturing me now about - I don't know, befriending Pitches and shit about your family trying to start civil unrest -" 

“It's not  _ my family _ starting it,” Baz argues, “when it's the Mage who keeps trying to raid our homes under the pretense of looking for dark magic.” 

I blink at him. “He what?”

Baz crosses his arms and glances away, looking upset. “Father wrote me and told me that the Mage and his  _ Merry _ Men showed up at our manor, wanting to ‘look around.’ When my father turned them away, the Mage said he'd be back with a warrant from the Coven.” 

This is all news to me. I sit up. “Baz. Why didn't you  _ tell _ me?” 

He laughs sourly. “Why didn't I tell the Mage’s heir my complaints about the Mage? You've told me plenty of times that he's off-limits.” It's true, and I feel bad about it now. 

“I'm sorry,” I say. It sounds weak and we both know it. “I'm just so - pissed! At the Mage, at Agatha, at everything! They're trying to make an issue out of us being  _ friends _ , when the Humdrum is out there getting stronger all the time! And I can't even do anything about it, because I'm stuck here, while the Mage is off making more problems with the Old Families. It's fucking ridiculous, is what it is.” 

“I agree,” Baz says with little humor. “So what are you going to do about it?” 

I glare at the ceiling, like there might be an answer written there. There isn't, but an idea starts to form in my mind. It's completely mad, it’s stupid - but it's so mad and stupid that it just might work. 

I kick my legs over the edge of my bed, leaning toward Baz and grinning. “How’d you like to be my boyfriend?” 

 

**BAZ**

I think I must have blown a fuse, because there's absolutely no way Simon just asked me to be his boyfriend.

“I'm sorry - what?” 

He's got the dumbest grin on his face, like he's just found the answer to the mystery of life, or the key to the world's biggest scone factory. “Hear me out, okay?” He hops over to my bed, and I make the effort not to lean away from him. “We've both got the Mage - and Agatha - breathing down our necks. Watching us, waiting for something to go wrong. So what if we pull this on them - that we're actually together, and happy boyfriends? They'll be so confused and upset, I feel like they both might try to kill us, but if we can convince them that the two of us can work together, then maybe the Mage will leave your family alone.” He tilts his head and says like an afterthought, “And maybe Agatha will be so jealous she'll want to get back together!”

I'm reeling. And ignoring that last. “There are an awful lot of maybes in that, Snow.” He looks so earnest, smiling at me and his eyes glittering. 

“We’d have rules, of course,” he says. “I know how much you love your rules. Rule number one - we can  _ never _ let on to anyone that it's fake. Even after it’s through. Too embarrassing.”

I still haven't actually agreed to this, but he's already diving in. I feel a bit ill. “I'm really not sure -" 

Simon grabs my hand, and I know I'm done for. “Come on! This’ll  _ work _ . I know it'll be awkward - but if we can be friends, surely we can pretend to be in love.” Hearing him say the word  _ love _ in reference to me, even preceded by ‘pretend’, sends a bolt through my heart. “Say you'll do it.” 

And because I'm weak, and a constant disappointment to myself, I say, “Rule number two -  _ no _ kissing.” 

Snow actually looks - annoyed? No fucking way. 

“That's not - how will people know we're dating if we don't  _ kiss _ ?” 

“I'm not budging on this.” 

“Why not? It’s just kissing. It’s not some scandalous thing.” 

I scowl at him. “Maybe not to  _ you _ . Some of us -” I stop myself, looking away in a pout.

“Wait - don’t tell me you’ve never kissed anyone before?” He sound so incredulous, like it’s some big shock, and I want to curl up and die. 

“No, I haven’t,” I hiss, my fists clenching beside me. “And I don’t want all my first ones to be fake.” When Simon Snow kisses me, I want it to be because I'm all he thinks about. I want it to be in a fit of passion, and because he can't keep his hands - or his lips - off of me. Not part of some big ruse. 

He full-body sighs. “Fine, fine. No telling anyone, no kissing - how will people know we’re a couple, then?” 

“Just the two of us existing in a friendly proximity should clue in most people,” I say drily, and he gives me a flat look. “Well… you could - you could put your hand in my back pocket.” 

I can tell he doesn’t understand. “What’s that mean?”

“I forget sometimes you were raised in homes. Have you really never seen  _ Sixteen Candles _ ?” He shakes his head. “Well, we’re watching that sometime. But that’s what they do in the movie.” I’m blushing furiously, but Simon blissfully doesn’t comment. 

His voice is quiet as he says, “Alright.” He sits back on his heels and runs his hands through his hair, making it stand up. “Blimey, Penny’s gonna flip.” 

“Does this mean you’re gay, then?” I blurt. I can’t help it - why else would he suggest this? If he’s okay with everyone thinking he’s gay, does that mean he actually is? But he just shrugs, looking sheepish. Half of Snow’s sentences are shrugs, and the rest are growls and snarls. They make me want to shake him. Or kick him in the knees. 

“I dunno,” he mutters, picking at my sheet. “Maybe? I’ve never really given it a whole lot of thought. I’ve been with Agatha, so I figured that meant I was straight.” He smiles at me again, and I melt a little more. “But who knows? Anything can happen.”

Anything really  _ can  _ happen. 

Like me, choosing to go along with one of Simon Snow’s hare-brained schemes. If I’m lucky, this whole thing will kill me, and I won’t have to deal with any of the inevitable repercussions. He can deal with them, and then cry over my corpse. That’ll  _ really  _ teach him. 

We’re awkward with each other the next morning, because we know what we’re about to do is completely barmy. Or at least I do - I don’t know if he’s realized how insane this is. I don’t even know if anyone will  _ believe _ us. 

When it comes time to leave Mummer’s House, we have to adjust to walking together, side by side. And it takes Simon several strides to figure out how to keep his hand in my pocket without jostling us both. He’s got it by the time we get to the dining hall, and we pause outside the door. 

“Ready?” he asks, wanting me to tell him everything will be okay. I nod curtly, and we push open the doors together. We’re later than usual, and it’s busy, breakfast in full swing, so it takes a moment for people to start noticing us. We cross the room together, Simon tight to my side and holding me to him like a tether. I keep my head high, eyes passively scanning the room and noting everyone who looks at us twice. 

Simon is leading, and he directs us to the table where he and Bunce sit. She’s spotted us, and is watching us like she honestly saw this coming. She really is too sharp. 

“Bunce,” I say in greeting, like this is the most normal thing in the world. I pull Simon’s seat out for him, before settling into the one adjacent. 

“Basil,” she says, just as casual, but her eyes flick over to Simon. “What’s up, boys?” 

“Uh, hi, Penny!” Simon practically squeaks, and he’s so obvious I could punch him. I look around the room again. Dev and Niall are watching us, and they both just look bored. I smirk at them, and Dev raises an eyebrow at me. My eyes move on, and I spot Wellbelove, looking like all the air’s been pulled from her lungs. 

And because I know she’s watching, I lean over to Simon and kiss his cheek softly before standing. “I’ll get us some tea,” I say, squeezing his shoulder, ignoring his blustering reaction and going to the serving table. The room is half hushed, and I’m still smirking. 

Maybe this  _ will _ be fun. 


	3. you played yaself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not really a song reference title just HONEST

**SIMON**

“I thought you said  _ no kissing _ ,” I say, as soon as Baz and I return to our room in the afternoon after lessons. “You were very adamant on that part!” 

He waves his hand at me, loosening his tie as his sits on his bed with one leg folded beneath him. “Only the lips count. I’ve been kissed on the cheek loads of times.” 

Today has been one of my weirdest days at Watford yet. (And that includes the time a seventh-year’s original spell went horribly wrong and everyone that had been in that building started speaking strictly in rhymes.) Everywhere Baz and I went, conversation just  _ stopped _ . We share so many classes and we’ve always sat as far apart as possible - but today, we sat in chairs with our hips practically touching, and I could feel the eyes of every person in the room. It drove me to distraction for the whole day. 

The teachers had no idea what to make of us either. That was kind of hilarious. Miss Possibelf practically fell over when I put my arm around Baz during Magic Words. 

“D’you think we had people fooled?” I ask, sitting across from him. I could tell Penny was dying to ask about it the whole day, but she didn’t with Baz around all the time. And we don’t share any classes that we don’t also share with him.

“I  _ actually  _ think everyone believed us. I heard a second year girl squeal something about her ship being canon,” Baz says, a wicked smirk on his face, “and if that’s not the most fucked up thing, I don’t know what is.” 

“Wha’ - people  _ ship  _ us?” Penny had explained to me a while ago what shipping meant in relation to fiction - but this isn’t fiction. This is my  _ life _ . 

Baz cackles. “Apparently so. We must have made her day.”

“Christ,” I mutter, because I swear like a Normal sometimes when I’m stressed. And today was definitely stressful. I’ve never seen Agatha so enraged. I’m not even sure this is going to work to make her jealous; she just seemed pissed off. 

“So, Snow, I have to ask,” Baz says as he gets up, and I feel like he’s just doing it just so he doesn’t have to look at me. “What’s the  _ endgame _ for this? I know the intent, but what do we do once it’s achieved? If we can’t tell anyone it was fake?” 

I open my mouth to answer - but then close it, because I don’t actually  _ have  _ an answer. If the goal is to show we can work together, won’t that be undone if we break up? 

Thankfully I don’t have to answer him, because there’s a knock at the door at the next moment. Because he’s already standing, Baz goes to open it. 

Penny is standing in the doorway, hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised. Baz looks at me over his shoulder, and I can practically hear him thinking, “ _ Interesting. _ ” I wonder if he’ll turn her in (the girls aren’t allowed in the boy’s dorm, and vice versa), but then I remember that we’re friends now, so more than likely that extends to Penny. Hopefully. 

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Baz says, giving Penny a nod before slipping by her and down the staircase. Penny comes in and closes the door, then rounds on me. 

“So you two are  _ dating _ now?” she says, sitting on Baz’s bed across from me and widening her eyes. “When did that  _ happen _ ?” 

I’m already stammering. I’ve always been terrible at lying to Penny, which is why I don’t do it often. “It just sort of - did! We made, uh, friends, and now we’re - more! I guess.” 

She frowns at me, leaning back on her hands and kicking her legs over the side of the bed. “I mean, I can’t say I didn’t see this coming -” 

“Woah woah woah,” I say, staring. “You what? How did you  _ see _ this coming?” 

The look she gives me is withering. “Simon. You’ve been obsessed with him since we  _ got _ to Watford. I’ve heard you talk more about Baz than you ever did about Agatha. You always keep track of him, you know what he  _ smells  _ like -” 

“Penny!” I cut her off, alarmed as she keeps listing things. “We’re  _ faking _ it. We’re not really together!” 

“You - you  _ what?! _ ” I wince as her voice goes higher. “Of all the ridiculous things you’ve ever done, Simon Snow - what the  _ fuck _ ?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time!” I say, my voice small. “I’m - I’m trying to make Agatha jealous, and the Mage -” 

“The Mage is going to skin you living when he finds out you’re together - if he finds out you were faking it too, I don’t think there’ll be anything left of you to bury! Nicks and Slick, what are you two  _ thinking _ ?!”

“It was my idea,” I say quickly, “not Baz’s. He didn’t seem too keen on it -” 

“Because he has more sense than you,” Penelope says, still amazed. 

I scowl at her. “But you saw Agatha today, didn’t you? She’s totally jealous.” 

Penny considers this, still kicking her legs above the floor. “Who’s she jealous of, though? Baz, for dating you - or you, for dating Baz?” 

I don’t like her voicing my own concerns. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we? We can’t exactly  _ stop _ now that everybody knows.” 

“No,” she agrees, moving from dubious to bemused now. “You definitely can’t stop.”

“You won’t rat us out, then? To Agatha, or anyone?” 

Penny sighs heavily. “Of course not, Simon. Idiot or not, you’re still my best friend. This might be one of your stupidest ideas yet - but I’ll be sure you two see it through.” I don’t know if I like the sound of that, but I sag with relief. 

“Our first rule was to not tell anyone - Baz is going to kill me.” 

“Maybe he’ll snog you to death,” Penny snickers, and I kick her shin, but that just makes her laugh harder. 

 

**PENELOPE**

Both of those boys are kidding themselves with this whole thing. Now that the idea’s planted in my mind, it makes so much sense. They’ve had this stupid love-triangle dynamic with Agatha since she and Simon started dating, and Baz has been doing his best to separate them. But it always struck me as odd; Baz would get them apart, luring Agatha off somewhere or setting Simon off - but then he’d just leave Agatha on her own. 

If he was trying to get with her, he wouldn’t just  _ leave  _ her. I’ve been trying to figure it out for years. Imagining Simon as the one Baz was actually after the whole time makes everything fit.

So is Baz gay? Does he realize he’s in love with Simon, and that’s why he was against the plan, like Simon said he was? He absolutely does have more sense than Simon. He must realize this entire thing is doomed. The only way it can work out is if those two  _ actually _ fall in love - and I love Simon, I really do, but he’s so thick I don’t know if he’d even realize it if they did. 

 

**BAZ**

Dev takes a long drag on his cigarette. I watch him, wanting a pull, but I keep myself from reaching for it. Over the years, Dev has learned from me how to control his expression and keep himself looking disinterested. The gaze he levels at me now is so sufficiently nonchalant I’m actually kind of proud. 

“So you and the  _ Chosen One _ , eh, Baz?” he says, languidly flicking ashes from the end of the cigarette. Niall, on the grass next to him, leans away. We’re sitting out in a corner of the Lawn, despite how cold it is, because Dev wanted a smoke and it’s not allowed in the school proper.

“Yeah, what’s that about?” Niall asks, tilting his head at me. He never quite learned how to look bored enough, especially now, bless him. He’s obviously burning with curiosity. 

I rub my hands together and blow into them, unhappy even in my gloves, hat, and huge jumper. Simon’s jumper. It’s a bit short on me, but it’s warm and smells like him. 

“Here, take this,” he’d said a few days ago before we left the room, chucking it at me. “You can wear it around. I know you get cold easily.” It wasn’t a Watford jumper, some knitted monstrosity covered in fuzz and made of so many different colors of yarn that I wonder if the creator just kept running out of spools and started with a new one each time. I didn’t have it in me to argue. It definitely is warmer than any of the peacoats I have, and wearing each other’s jackets is very much a couple thing.

“You’re even wearing his clothes, Baz. You look ridiculous.” Dev rubs at his nose with his thumb. “What’s the plan here?” 

I shrug my shoulders. “Finding true love?” I say unconvincingly, and Niall groans. 

“No way,” he says, shaking his head firmly. “I don’t believe that, not of you, Baz.”

“Maybe I’ve been in love with him this whole time,” I say mysteriously, and it’s the closest to the truth I’ve ever gotten with them. I’d told them I was gay a while back, but I don’t think they’d ever considered who’d helped me come to that realization. “Maybe all the time I’ve spent plotting against him has been my way of distracting myself from the fact that I was hopelessly, desperately in love with him.” 

Dev takes another pull. “Maybe,” he says slowly. “But in reality?”

I stare at him. He might have learned the expression from me, but I’m still the master. “This is reality, Dev. You should try living in it sometime.” I push to my feet and brush off the backs of my legs. “Are we finished here?” I don’t wait for an answer, instead turning and hiking back up the gentle slope to the school without them. 

It would’ve been easier for me to just tell them the truth. That it was some elaborate scheme of Simon’s to piss off the Mage, or something. I know Simon told Bunce the other day. That would’ve been the painless route. They’d assume I had something up my sleeve, and be ready and waiting for when my plan hatched. 

But I don’t have a plan. All I have is some fleeting desperation, and the smallest sliver of my dignity, which Simon now keeps in his back pocket. If this whole thing breaks open, if everyone finds out that this was a hoax - I’m done for. I don’t know what I’m hoping will happen. Just because I’m in love with him doesn’t mean he’ll ever feel the same way. I  _ know  _ he never will.

So why am I putting myself through this when I know it’ll only end in flames?

 

**SIMON**

It takes six weeks for the Mage to find out. Took him longer than I expected. 

Things are going surprisingly well. Baz and I have fallen into a sort of rhythm, and everything was calm after the first week’s initial shock. Comfortable, even. 

I walk Baz to all of his classes, holding his hand or with my hand in his pocket. He sits with Penny and I at meals, leaning against me sideways in his seat while I eat and he reads a book, or argues with Penny about - magickal politics, or astrology, or whatever else they find to quarrel over. But it’s all good-natured; Penny tells me privately that she actually finds Baz quite enjoyable to debate. Their mutual admiration of one another might be the funniest part of all of this. Or the most annoying, I’m not sure. 

But then the Mage calls me to his office. He doesn’t come find me - he sends Miss Possibelf to fetch me. She squeezes my shoulder before I leave her. She’s always been my favorite teachers, and maybe she knows that, because she says quietly, “Just know you have my support, Mr. Snow. Alright? You and Mr. Pitch both.” 

The comment actually comforts me as I continue to the Mage’s office. I’m twitchy in the elevator, and I can feel my magic rising up in me. I knew this was coming; I’d orchestrated it to come to this, but I’m still almost afraid of how the Mage is going to react. 

I knock at his door and he calls for me to come in. “Sit down, Simon,” he says tiredly, gesturing at the chair in front of his desk. He’s actually sitting for once, leaning back like he wants nothing more than to become one with his chair. I do as he says and rub my hands back and forth across my knees. 

“What’s this about, sir?” I ask, even though I know the answer. 

He levels his eyes at me, his brows heavy and his chin pointing down. “I think you know perfectly well the answer to that. Really, Simon, I don’t know what you’re thinking. I’d love for you to tell me.” 

My heart is pounding. I’ve never been a good liar, but I know I have to play this carefully. “I’m still not sure what you’re talking about, sir.”

The Mage bangs his fist on the desk and I jump in my seat, sitting up straight and staring with wide eyes. “I’m not playing games today! I know you’re dating the Pitch boy, and I want an explanation. Now.”

I somehow give my voice just the right amount of distress as I say, “I-I’m sorry, sir. I thought it was okay these days - being gay.” There, I said it. His reaction is immediate, his face flushing with color and his mouth falling open. 

“That’s not - I didn’t - that isn’t -” the Mage blusters, his face glowing with heat. “That is  _ not _ what I meant, Simon. Of - of course it’s alright if you’re gay.” 

“Not if, sir,” I quip, and I know I’m pushing it, but I have him cornered.

“Right,” he says meekly. And then he seems to recover, because he stands and leans over his hands on the desk, glaring down at me. “You know what I mean, Simon. The Pitches are our enemy. You’ve been complaining about Basilton for years! How did that all suddenly change in a few months?!” 

I almost crumble with him standing over me like this, but I manage to shrug my shoulders. “I dunno, sir. It just happened.” 

The Mage speaks through clenched teeth, his elbows bending slightly. “The Pitches. Are. Our.  _ Enemy _ . I  _ told _ you that now is not the time -”

“They’re not  _ my  _ enemy,” I interrupt, and suddenly I’m shouting and on my feet. The Mage stands back, clearly startled. “The Humdrum is  _ my  _ enemy, the only one I’m worried about. You made the Pitch’s your enemy when you started raiding their homes and threatening their existence!” 

“Now see here, Simon -” the Mage tries to cut in, but I blow by him. 

“No matter what you think or feel toward Baz’s family, it doesn’t change the fact that Baz and I are just kids,” I snarl, gesturing at the Mage. “I don’t care if you’re trying to incite some civil war the with Old Families or whatever the fuck you’re up to, but leave Baz and I  _ out of it _ .” I practically spit those last three words, breathing heavily. My magic isn’t spilling out anymore; it actually feels manageable. I’m seething, but I’m not going off for once. 

Black hair. Grey eyes. 

The Mage is staring at me, astonished. We’re both silent. I don’t think he knows what to say to me now. And before he can say a word, I stiffly dip my head, turn on my heel, and storm out the door. 

Instead of going back to our room, I take off across campus and then the Lawn, no idea where I’m going other than away. Everything else fades out, leaving only the pounding of my footsteps on the cold, hard ground. I only slow down when I see a figure in the distance, over a crowd of tiny animals. Ebb and the goats. 

She spots me and lifts her staff in greeting. “Ahoy, Simon!” she calls out, and I head toward her, slowing to a jog until I reach her and come to a stop. “Woah there, boyo. You look a bit of a fright, is everything okay? Not a lovers’ spat?” 

I blink at her. “You know about Baz and I?” 

Ebb chuckles. I’ve always liked the sound of her laugh - like she doesn’t have a care in the world. She probably doesn’t, living out here with only her goats. “Not much happens at this school that I don’t know about, Simon! Everything comes my way eventually.” She reaches out to pat my arm, looking worried. “That’s not what this is about, is it? I know you two were always at each other’s throats before, but I thought now maybe -”

I shake my head, and I’m a little ashamed to feel my lip quivering. “No, Baz and I are - fine. I just had a row with the Mage. Yelled at him.” 

Letting out a low whistle, Ebb leans on her staff and smiles at me. “Reckon he probably deserved it. You two don’t often get into it like that.” 

“He’s just so - righteous. Or he pretends to be. With things the way they are now between Baz and I… it’s insane for the Mage to keep up this vendetta against the Pitch’s. They’re still  _ people _ . And he’s been invading their homes, so it’s no wonder they’re fighting back.” Something about talking to Ebb always makes me spill everything that’s on my mind. I know the Pitch’s and the Old Families are archaic with most of their ideals, and I’m not sure why I’m defending them, but something in my gut tells me I’m  _ right _ to get after the Mage for this. 

“The Mage has always been pretty radicalized,” Ebb says, and I think she must agree with me. “Ever since his reforms began, he’s been pressing for more and more. And while the Pitch’s and their sort have always been darker than most people are alright with, you’ve got a point. They’re still people. I think he probably forgets that sometimes.” She pats me again. “Good on you for standing up to him.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, scuffing at the ground with my shoe. One of the goats sneaking up on me startles and bounds away again. “I should probably get back.”

“You go on then,” Ebb says affectionately. “Come out and see me if you get too stressed again. Me n’ the nannies always love the company.”

 

**PENELOPE**

It’s early April when I finally confront Agatha. I suppose I’ve been stewing a bit myself - it was pretty shit of her to dump Simon and then me as well, completely just writing both of us out of her life when all we ever were before they were dating was friends. 

She barely shows up to meals anymore. During lessons, she sits as far away from any of us as physically possible, without her actually stepping outside of the classroom. 

I corner her between periods in the girl’s room. 

Agatha comes out of the stall to find me leaning in the doorway, blocking her exit, and blinks at me owlishly. “This is weird, Penny. Even for you.”

I shrug my shoulders. I’ve picked up the movement from Simon, and it’s even grating on me. “You’ve been ignoring me everywhere else. I figured this was the best way to get you to talk.”  

She scowls, and it’s not an expression I’ve seen her wear many times before. “You haven’t even tried to talk to me.” 

“Yeah, well, I could tell you were steaming. I didn’t want to get on you until you’d had time to cool off.” She scoffs and continues to the sinks to wash her hands. “I don’t see why you and Simon breaking up means we can’t be friends anymore.” 

“ _ Were _ we friends?” she asks, and I know she’s just being prickly to be mean. 

“I sure hope so,” I reply, “because if you’re not my friend, I’m down to two and a half.” 

“How can you have half a friend?” 

“Do vampires count as a whole person?” 

Agatha stares at me then, her mouth half open. “You’re counting  _ Baz _ as your friend? Just because he and Simon are - boyfriends now, or whatever?” The bitterness in her tone is expected, but I still have to stop myself from sighing. 

“I do count him,” I say slowly, “and not just because they’re together. Getting to actually know him has been right educational, actually. He’s not as bad as all that. He’s excellent company, and nearly as smart as I am.” 

“Fantastic. I’m so happy for you,” Agatha monotones, drying her hands. 

I lean forward, crossing my arms. “You can still be apart of it all, Agatha. You don’t have to keep yourself out. I know Simon misses you.” 

“As if. He and Baz are clearly very happy together.” 

This time I can’t keep myself from sighing. “I don’t mean he misses dating, I mean - he misses you as a friend. Like I do.” When she doesn’t answer, I keep pressing. “What are you even mad about, Agatha? You broke up with Simon. If you’re just upset because Baz rejected you - well. You can see why he did.” 

She’s still quiet, so I stop talking as well. Waiting. She’s staring at her hands, her brows furrowed and forehead creased. 

I nearly miss it when she finally does speak, she’s so soft. “I think it’s probably too late.” 

“Too late for what?” 

She shoves at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I said some awful things to Simon. Things I can’t just - take back. I don’t really blame him for not trying to talk to me. I was a terrible friend.” 

I step out of the doorway and closer to her, placing my hand on her shoulder. She stiffens. “You know how Simon is,” I say quietly. “I really think if you apologize - and you actually  _ mean _ it - that he’ll forgive you. The worst he can do is say no.” Agatha wipes at her eyes again with her sleeve.

 

**AGATHA**

Penelope is good at making everything sound so easy. She says things with such a simple kind of bravado, it’s hard not to be swept away with her confidence. 

But real life is rarely so easy, Penny. 

I meant what I told her. I know the things I said to Simon were awful. And I repeated them later to Baz. I guess I was feeling so bitter about everything - which is no excuse, of course. But I just feel so trapped by it all, and I have no idea how to express it. 

It feels like there’s something  _ wrong _ . With me. With my heart. Maybe I didn’t love Simon enough, or maybe I’m broken. Incapable of that kind of love, or any kind of love. 

I didn’t love Baz. That wasn’t why I wanted him. Even now, I can’t really explain it. I’m just so tired of people telling me what’s best for me, or feeling like I have to play my part of the damsel in distress. Scream on cue, cry when told.

I’m done screaming. I’m  _ done  _ crying. 

But Penny’s right. (Which I would never tell her to her face.) I have to make  _ this _ right. Even if it’s not much, that’s all I can do for Simon. For his sake, and my own. 

He’s alone, thank goodness, when I find him. Sitting in the library of all places, chewing on a hangnail while he scans a book. I don’t even know if he’s reading it, or just staring really hard at the pages. He must not be paying too much attention to it, because he looks up as I approach his table. 

“Agatha,” he says, awe in his voice. “Uh - hi.”

“Hello, Simon,” I say quietly, stopping beside him and resting my hands on the table. “Could we - talk? Outside, maybe?” I look around the room at the other people studying silently. Some of them are sneaking furtive glances at us, but turn away quickly when I look at them. 

He starts gathering up his things, closing the book quickly and shoving it across the table. “Yeah - yeah, of course. Let’s talk.” I wait for him to pack up and then start out with him following behind me. I’m wringing my hands, something I never do, and I force myself to stop. 

I find a quiet spot in the corner of the courtyard, under an awning. Simon’s magic is leaking tiny amounts, I can smell the smoke of it and practically feel his nerves. His eyes aren’t on me, instead touching the air around me. We haven’t talked in weeks. I accused Penny of ignoring me, but they both know that I’ve been avoiding them. “I wanted to apologize to you, Simon. For the things I said to you when we broke up, and everything afterward.” 

It’s obvious he’s blown away by this admonition. “Agatha. It’s - it’s alright. I know I was a terrible boyfriend, so I didn’t really blame you for all that -” 

He stops when I start shaking my head. “You weren’t a terrible boyfriend,” I say softly. “I just don’t think we were ever meant to be together.” I take a deep breath. “I don’t know if I ever want to be with  _ anyone _ like that.” My eyebrows lift at him significantly, and I think he takes my meaning.

“Oh,” he says, and he doesn’t really seem surprised. Mostly withdrawn. “Right. I understand. Still, it’s fine.” He smiles at me then, and I still feel like I don’t deserve it. “I’m glad you came to talk to me. Even - even if we’re not together, I want us to be friends.” 

I return his smile - or try to, but it feels small and incomplete, like me. “Me too, Simon. Really.” We both pause for a beat, and I say, “You and Baz seem pretty happy together. Which is still a bit of a shock.” 

He lets out a breath of laughter, shoving his hand through his hair. “You’re going to think I’m mad for this - but it’s actually - we’re not actually together.” I stare at him, not understanding, so he keeps going. “We uh - we’re fake dating. I guess. It was my idea. I thought it might - I dunno, make you jealous or something, and you’d want to get back together. And a little bit to piss off the Mage too.”

My eyes blink hard at him. “You’re right, I do think you’re mad for that. But not for the reason you think - Simon, I’ve never seen the two of you so happy.” 

Now he’s looking at me like I’m the mad one. “Well, yeah - we’re putting on a show. A facade.” 

“I might believe it of Baz, but you’re a  _ terrible _ actor and you know it. I’ve seen you two, even when you don’t think anyone’s looking. You’re both  _ glowing _ when you’re around each other. You look at him with the softest face I’ve ever seen, I watched you do it.” I cant my head at him. “If you think you’re faking it - probably the only person you’ve fooled is yourself.” 


	4. take it easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for sticking with me through all of this and your awesome comments!! I love y'all ffs   
> thanks again to ani for helping me brainstorm things

**BAZ**

I’m sitting in our room when Simon comes in. He’s got the strangest look on his face, like he took a bite of something and it tasted different than he expected. 

“Earth to Snow,” I say after a minute of him putzing around in silence. “Come in, Snow! What’s going on?” He startles, clearly not realizing I was there. “You’re even more out of it than usual.” 

“Oh. Baz,” he says flatly, “sorry, I didn’t see ya.” 

“So I noticed,” I quip, sitting up on my bed and curling one leg beneath me. “Where’d you leave your brain this time?” 

He drops onto his bed across from me, close enough that our knees are almost touching. “Uh, with Agatha, I think.” 

“Wellbelove? What’s she got to do with it?” He doesn’t reply again, so I bump my knee against his. “Oi. Wake up, Simon.”

“Huh? Oh, sorry - she apologized. For what she said during our breakup.” This seems normal enough. I don’t know why he’s being so odd about it. 

“Well, that’s good then?” I sound like I’m asking a question. Pitiful.

He nods roughly. “Yeah! Yeah, it is. We’re friends again, which is nice.” 

I hate myself for it, but I can’t help asking, “So does she want to get back together? Are you going to get your golden fairy tale ending?” 

He looks up at me sharply. “Oh. No, we uh - actually agreed that we’re better off just as friends.”

“You  _ agreed _ ?” I’ll admit it, I’m surprised. Everyone knows that Simon’s been hopelessly enamored with Wellbelove for years. That he’d just let go without a blow up or some kind of dramatics is practically unheard of. 

Snow shrugs, stretching out on his bed. “Yeah.” No elaboration, no further explanation. Maybe that’s for the best. This conversation is getting more frustrating by the second. 

We mostly ignore each other for the rest of the evening, both of us absorbed in our own thoughts. I’m thankful he’s not leaking magic, because it makes me jittery and edgy. I’m still jittery and edgy, even without it. 

He doesn’t make any sense to me. We’ve been doing this for months, arguably one of the most painful things I’ve endured. (Apart from being turned into a vampire.) I agreed to it because I was desperate, and sad. I wanted to be near to him, even if it was fake; even if to him, it was all just a joke. 

There have been moments where I convinced myself that it wasn’t a lie. When it’s been just us, no one around that we had to perform for, and it  _ felt _ real. In our room, talking about our days and bouncing off of each other, comfortable and joking, even. Sometimes I’ll see him, out of the corner of my eye, staring at me like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen. He’ll look away the moment I meet his gaze, color flooding his face. 

I’m too much of a coward to ask if he wants to call this off. Because even though it’s been torture - I’m not ready to let go of him, not just yet. 

And we keep faking it. He’ll take my hand during lessons and squeeze it, tying himself to me. He leans in close when I speak, looking like he’s hanging on my every word. He opens doors for me, pulls out my chair when I don’t beat him to it. 

It isn’t for another few days that I start to wonder more at him. At mealtimes, we sit with Bunce and Wellbelove - the only other people who know that we’re pretending. (Dev and Niall ran out of patience with me, and sit by themselves.) I always expect that when they’re around, Simon will drop a lot of the act. 

But then one day, he takes my hand at the table during lunch and lifts it to his mouth, kissing my knuckles softly and leaving them pressed to his lips. He doesn’t even look at me as he does it, eyes unfocused as he’s hunched over and staring off at some corner of the room. I glance at the girls and they’re looking at each other with the most sardonic expressions. 

It’s only then that I start to wonder if something’s changed. 

 

**SIMON**

Everything is a mess. Things with the Mage, all this with Baz, my head - nothing makes sense to me anymore. 

The Mage hasn’t tried to talk to me again. I haven’t seen him at all - Madame Bellamy tells us during Elocution that he’s gone on some mission, which is probably good for me. I can’t go off on him if he’s not here to go off at. I’m grateful. 

But without that distraction, I’m stuck thinking about what Agatha said. That I’ve fooled myself. I wanted to argue with her more, but I couldn’t think up anything to say. To tell her she’s wrong, and that Baz and I are just friends. 

The more I think about it, the more I think that maybe she’s  _ right _ . Normally, I’m good at packing away things I don’t want to think about, forcing them out of my head, but doing that with Baz is nearly impossible. It’s always been impossible. He’s always there, on the edge of my thoughts, devilishly handsome and ready with some snarky comment. 

I told him I don’t know if I’m gay. I still don’t know - but thinking about him and his soft hair and his sharp wit and his cheekbones makes my face hot and my heart race. And I know that’s not for nothing. 

I guess the only thing that keeps me from bringing it up to him is that  _ fear _ . I’m afraid that if I mention it to him - that I might actually be in love with him - he’ll laugh in my face for falling for my own charade. That maybe this, and our friendship, actually  _ was  _ some plot of his to distract me or something. 

The thought terrifies me more than I’d care to admit. 

He goes out to feed, one afternoon, disappearing across the drawbridge and into the Wavering Wood. I’m following him at a distance, and maybe he knows I am, because he glances back my way just before plunging into the shadows of the trees. 

I take off after him. 

The treeline breaks around me, swallowing me up in quiet forest sounds and the smell of bark and dirt. I don’t see Baz anywhere around me, but that doesn’t mean he’s not here. I have no idea what I want to say to him, but I call out for him softly. “Baz? You there?”

I jump when he speaks behind me. “Simon.” I whip around to see him leaning against a tree. His eyes are on me, looking me over with a guarded expression. He always looks guarded around me these days.

“Baz,” I breathe, stepping toward him. He steps toward me at the same time, and we draw up eye to eye. Or nearly, since the bastard still has two inches on me. And then I can’t say anything else. The words catch in my throat, scrabbling for a hold. 

He breaks our eye contact first. “Go back to the school, Simon.” Disappointment is heavy in his tone. Hurt. “I’ll be back soon.” 

“Wait, Baz, hang on,” I bark as he starts to slip past me, my hand enclosing around his wrist. Then there’s a pull just behind my navel, and suddenly we’re not in the Wood anymore.

 

**BAZ**

Simon’s hand grabs mine, and we’re transported. Did he  _ teleport _ us? There’s no precedent for that. Or anything Snow does, ever.

We startle apart, heads whipping around as we try to get our bearings. We’re in a clearing somewhere, surrounded by this horrible sound like a tornado - and the dry suck that I recognize instantly as the Humdrum. I reach for my magic, drawing my wand from my pocket, but it doesn’t rise in me. 

It’s one of the Humdrum’s dead spots. 

Beside me, Simon mutters, “Lancashire,” and I’m about to ask him how he knows, but that’s when I spot him. 

The Humdrum.  _ Simon _ . 

It’s obviously the Humdrum, because he’s the source of the hot, painful sucking that feels like it’s pulling at my skin, my magic, my very essence. 

And it’s obviously Simon, like Simon the first day I saw him. All skinned knees and oversized clothes, that look on his face that makes me want to knee him, bouncing that stupid red ball he never put down during our first year. 

Simon - the older Simon, beside me - just starts shouting at him, screaming for him to show himself, calling him a coward. I’m too shocked to move or to speak, trying to reconcile these two Simons in my mind. Finding I can’t. 

The noise is overwhelming. That howling noise, Simon screaming at the Humdrum, the Humdrum laughing wildly like he can’t stop and sucking at us just by existing - it’s too much. When the Humdrum tosses the ball to Simon, I catch it instead and throw it as hard as I can. 

The Humdrum stops laughing and takes off down the hill after the ball. As soon as he turns away, the sucking stops, and we both fall over. I look at Simon, and he’s leaking blood and fluid from his pores. Yellow fluid is coming from me as well, and I try not to panic, lurching over on my hands and knees in the grass. 

Before I can recover, Simon is hauling me up with him, practically carrying me, pushing forward like a Royal Marine and out of the dead spot. My magic comes back in a flood, leaving me with that buzzing feeling you get after your leg falls asleep and you have to shake it to get back the feeling, and it comes back with pins and needles. 

We’re both too shocked to speak. He’s covered in blood, the dizzying smell of it making me reel. I hadn’t gotten to drink earlier. 

 

**SIMON**

Baz’s teeth are filling up his mouth. I can see them pressing against the inside of his cheeks. My half-functioning brain relates him to a squirrel in my head and it’s the weirdest image. I shake it away. 

“What the actual fuck was that?” Baz snarls, his voice muffled around the fangs. I can see them when his lips part. 

“The Humdrum?” I say weakly, my heart pounding out of my chest. 

“Simon.” Baz looks at me seriously, fear and pain written across his expression. “Are  _ you _ the Humdrum?” 

“No!” I insist, and I drop to the ground, drained suddenly. My magic is back, now that we’re out of the dead spot, but for once it feels almost limp inside me. Quiet. And I’m hot, I’m too hot, sweat beading across my skin and mixing with the fluid and my blood. 

My blood. That’s why Baz’s fangs are out, it must be driving him mad. 

 

**BAZ**

I can’t focus with the smell of Simon’s blood filling my nose, my mouth. I leave him there, and he doesn’t try to follow me, just sits in the grass staring at nothing. There are animals around, I can smell them, rabbits and a few squirrels. I spell them to me and drain every last drop from all of them. 

When I get back to Simon, I’m afraid for a moment that he’s dead. Stretched out on his back, chest barely moving and still covered in blood. The smell of him is still intoxicating. I clench my fists, my fingernails digging painfully into my palms. 

“Simon,” I hiss, crouching beside him and nudging him. He grunts. It’s strange that he’s so spent, while my magic is swirling inside me, ready to be used. He reaches for my fist, squeezes it - and then does something I don’t expect. Like an electric shock, his magic is suddenly filling me up, occupying the corners of me that my own magic doesn’t reach. I try to let go of his hand, frightened for a moment, but we’re sewn together. Anchored. 

My resolve hardens. I lift him with me, filled to the brim with fire, and hold my wand aloft. 

“ **On love’s light wings!** ” I boom, my voice carrying across the hills. It’s a difficult spell, an old one, and it only works for you if you understand the Great Vowel Shift of the Sixteenth Century - and if you’re stupidly in love. 

We lift into the air, and I feel weightless and powerful with Simon’s magic coursing through me. He’s conscious, and aware, and he’s looking around in awe as we take to the sky.

I’m kind of surprised the spell worked. I’ve never tried to use it before. 

For what feels like ages and barely a moment, we soar over countryside, holding tightly to each other. I don’t know what Simon’s thinking. Or what I’m thinking. 

 

**SIMON**

I don’t know what I’m thinking. I’m trying my best not to. 

Tears start rolling down my face, unbidden, and I don’t try to wipe them away. I just cling to Baz because that’s all I know to do anymore. 

The Humdrum has my  _ face _ . It doesn’t make any fucking sense. I’m angry and confused and upset all at once, and it’s not a good combination. I bury my face in Baz’s shoulder, who’s somehow keeping us aloft, and he takes it in stride, his hand looped around my back as we fly. 

What was the spell he used?  _ On love’s light wings _ ? It’s not one I’ve ever heard of before.

The thing about spells is that while some of them have a very literal meaning, many still don’t.  _ Love _ . Does he have to be in love to use it? Who could he be in love  _ with _ ?

 

**BAZ**

When the magic flowing between us starts to feel stale and dry, I lower us slowly to the ground. I’m not sure where exactly we are, but I can see the towers and buildings of London rising in the distance. I drop us in a clearing of trees, hidden from the view of any Normals around. Simon looks almost transparent - maybe he spelled us invisible. That wouldn’t surprise me.

I don’t think anything would surprise me anymore. Not after the day we’ve had. 

Looking Simon over, I’m thinking it might not be a good idea to try and get on a train. We’re both covered in Simon’s blood, dry and dark now, crusting on our clothes and skin. He drops to the ground, sitting heavily in the grass, and I fall beside him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. 

“We’ve got to get back to Watford,” he breathes, leaning his shoulder against mine and burying his face in my neck. “We… have to tell the Mage.” 

It’s work not to roll my eyes. The effort is almost painful. 

Of course that’s his solution. Run back to his master, heel like a good hound.

“Like hell we do,” I growl, and he looks up at me with his basic blue eyes. 

“What do you suggest we do, then?” Simon murmurs, and it actually sounds like he wants an answer. I stare at him, and he stares back, his brows furrowed like he’s trying to figure me out. 

I speak slowly, thinking quickly. “We definitely need to get back to Watford… I can spell us clean enough, I think, to get on the train without anyone calling the police. After that…” I pause, sucking on my fangs that are still filling my mouth. The air tastes like blood. “We find Bunce and we start there. The three of us working on this together will do better than involving the bloody Mage.”

He bumps his head against my shoulder. “Alright, then. We’ll do that.” 

 

**SIMON**

I’m done arguing with Baz. Something is keeping me from fighting with him, telling me to trust him. So I do. 

Instead of arguing, I take his hand and press my magic into him again. I’m still not sure what I’m doing, but when I fill him with my power he straightens and his voice takes on new strength. He points his wand at us and enunciates clearly, “ **Clean as a whistle!** ” and we’re both scrubbed clean, the blood and fluids disappearing from our clothes and our skin. 

We decide it’ll be best to walk to the station, because I’m feeling a bit drained and I can tell he is. His fangs finally retract, his cheeks no longer looking full.

“Wait,” I say, grabbing his hand before he can take off again. “Baz, hang on. What was that spell you used earlier?” I don’t trust myself to say the spell out loud, with the way my magic has been acting up. 

“It was nothing,” he says, not meeting my eyes. “Just a spell to get us out of there. Better than  **Up and away** and having our lungs pulled out of us.” I yank at both of his hands now, forcing him to look me in the eyes. 

“I know I’m thick, but I’m not  _ dumb _ , Baz,” I say quietly. “Spells like that one are complicated. Everything you  _ do _ is complicated. And it mentioned -” I swallow, but my throat is so dry it almost hurts. “It mentioned love. I heard you.” 

“At least we know you’re not deaf as well as thick,” he says weakly, and I growl. 

“Baz, for Christ’s sake -” I hiss, and close off the rest of my sentence by pressing my lips to his. He stiffens under my mouth and I wonder for a second if I’ve made a terrible mistake, wondering if he’s going to curse me or punch me, but then he opens his mouth and pushes back. Kissing Baz is like fighting him, neither of us giving an inch, but that’s how I like it. How I prefer it.

 

**BAZ**

I meant it when I told Snow I’d never kissed anyone before. I have no idea  _ how _ to kiss anyone. He’s obviously done it before, doing something with his chin that’s very nice. I try to copy him, pressing against him and gripping his arms. 

I’m never letting him go. 

 

**SIMON**

About the time I bite Baz’s lip is about the time he starts laughing, breathy laughter like he can’t keep it in. My hands are cupping his face and I’m breathing heavily, and he’s shaking with laughter. 

“If I did that to you,” he manages, actually grinning, “we’d be having a very different sort of afternoon.” 

“I’m sorry,” I say, starting to giggle myself, feeling like an idiot. “I guess I got carried away.” I kiss him again, because his mouth is there and open and I don’t feel like he’s going to slap me anymore. 

He lets me go for a moment, before reaching up to grab my wrists and pulling them down. “Snow.  _ Simon _ . Hang on.” I pull back, waiting for some sort of retaliation, but Baz just looks almost frightened. Confused. That sobers me up. “What is happening right now?” 

“I broke the rules, didn’t I?” I croak, twisting my hands so I can hold his, my thumb rubbing into the palm of his hand. “No kissing. Rule number two.” 

“Care to explain why?” Baz’s voice is strained and he’s looking at me hard. 

 

**BAZ**

I’m trying to ignore the twisting in my gut, bracing myself for this rejection. Even though  _ he _ kissed  _ me _ . Another fucking whim of Simon Snow. 

So I’m not prepared at all when he says, “Well, ‘cause I like ya. I don’t think I realized it fully ‘til now. Not even when Agatha told me I was in love with you. I guess it took us having our lives threatened, ‘cause all I could think about was getting you out of there safely. Making sure you were  _ alright _ .” 

“Wait, you’re -?” I start, but he cuts me off with another of his entrancing kisses. 

“I don’t think this was ever -  _ fake _ ,” Simon says, speaking so softly around our lips. “I think I told myself it was, so I wouldn’t have to look at the facts. That I’m in love with you - and you’re in love with me.” 

I open my mouth, ready to deny it, because I’m endlessly contradictory, but he jabs a finger into my chest and my argument flees. “Don’t do it, Baz. Don’t say you’re not, because I  _ know _ you are. There’s no way that spell would’ve worked otherwise.” He glares at me with those eyes that somehow always keep me there. Even when I’m afraid. “Just for fucking once. Take it easy on me.” 

Instead of answering, I grab his chin and pull his mouth to mine again. 

I will never, ever let him go. 

**Author's Note:**

> chapter title is referencing i'm not okay by my chemical romance~


End file.
